Living The Riddled Life
by Curry Spice
Summary: A series of flashbacks and scenes from the life of Veronica Doyle: befriending, living, and loving the world's worst nightmare. Catch a glimpse of what the orphaned Tom Riddle was like as a child - and how he changed.
1. Chapter 1 Shattered Bliss

            She poured the yellow powder into the bowl along with a cup of milk, eggs, and a frothy pink liquid. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him slip into a chair, gracefully placing a thick black volume onto the antique wooden table, and pull out his wand.

            "I'm baking a cake, Chocolate or Lemon?" she asked, sending him a sidelong glance while she pulled out her own wand and waved it over the bowl.

            "What?" he said irritably, snapping his head up to glare at the woman by the counter.

            "I-am-baking-a-cake. Do-you-want-it-to-be-Chocolate-or-Lemon-flavored?" she asked, slowly and clearly, enunciating every word as though speaking to a small child. 

            He said nothing and went back to his reading.

            "Well?" she asked after a minute, pursing her lips.

            "I don't need sustenance."

            "Of course you don't. You are the High Mighty One, how could I have asked such a stupid question? Please forgive me," she said flatly, "The potion'll dry up, do you have a choice?"

            "I told you. I don't need it," he answered impatiently, suddenly fingering his wand – something he did whenever angered.

            "Chocolate it is then," she answered with a bright, sarcastic smile. She turned back around and fumed in silence, listening to him mutter foreign words and flip through the pages of his book while beating the now green mixture furiously with a large spoon.

-:- -:- -:-

            "You smell…" Veronica Doyle observed, sniffing him ostentatiously while the few people around them laughed. Tom muttered something incoherent, head bowed miserably, and continued the trek through the rolling green lawns towards Hogwarts castle.

            Two weeks into the year at the elite school, the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors had just completed their very first flying lesson with Madame Parsnip. The eager Slytherins had lined up with the equally excited Gryffindors, forgetting the legendary rivalry between the two houses in all their enthusiasm. Tom had, along with the rest of his peers, reached out his hand quite anxiously and called 'Up' when the teacher signaled. Unlike the other students, however, Tom's shiny broomstick did not obey his command – a peculiar occurrence, as the school had purchased them only last year and the whole lot were in near-perfect condition. 

Tom, after throwing suspicious looks at his neighbors, (believing for a moment that somebody had tampered with it and then remembering that they were first years and had barely mastered the art of a simple levitation spell) called to his broomstick a second time a little louder, and still received no response. Gritting his teeth, he called to it again, ignoring the scattered sniggering around him. Madame Parsnip watched him with mild concern along with every other person attending the lesson. He felt beads of sweat begin to form around his hairline and then, without any idea of why he did it, he forced his mind to concentrate on willing the broomstick to come to his awaiting hand. Instantly, the broomstick came into his grasp and he let out a breath of relief. 

Madame Parsnip, seeing that everyone was ready, told the class to mount their brooms and take off, making sure to fly no higher than 15 feet. Tom sensed that his broomstick might not comply at his demands as the others did. So just to be sure, after mounting it with some silent trepidation, he concentrated on taking off – once again, wondering why he did it. Sure enough, the broomstick shot up about fifteen feet, and then wavered in midair, as though deciding which direction to turn. 'Down!' Tom had whispered to it urgently, as the rest of the class was already making their descent. The broom turned slightly to the left and zoomed backwards a few yards, Tom hanging on tight. He took a deep breath and turned the handle downwards, hoping for a nice, clean landing. Instead, the broom shot fifty feet in the air and, with a sharp turn, flew forward at breakneck speed with Tom hanging on for his dear life right into a patch of Hippogriff dung outside the house of Hogwarts' Groundskeeper, Ogg. 

This was definitely the worse day he'd ever had. And now Veronica Doyle, a pretty little girl with curly black hair, was drawing even more attention to his muddy, dripping stature.

"You smell like dung!" she continued, giggling and staring straight at him while they ascended the steps to the castle, Tom leaving brown mud prints on the clean, gray stone steps. He was sure his face was burning and he quickened his pace, desperate to get away and take a nice, cleansing shower. When the group finally reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, a boy up ahead with a shock of blond hair gave the password and they settled in. Tom walked quickly as possible through the scattered silver and green poufs and chairs, dodging the remarks about his scent and repeated inquiries as to what had happened to the ickle firstie.

            At last, he made it to his dormitory and practically leapt into the bathroom. 

            He ran his finger down the table of contents and stopped when he reached "Chapter 14: Humiliation Hexes – pgs. 497-546". Raising an eyebrow at the inviting title, he quickly flipped to the page and began absorbing information on the Jelly-legs Jinx. It was a month into the school year and Tom had learned two things: that he had a natural knack for spell casting – he was probably first in all his classes so far, and that people who end up in a pile of hippogriff dung at the end of a simple flying lesson are never forgotten. Now, nearly a fortnight after the mortifying incident, he was still teased in the corridors by a myriad of obnoxious Gryffindors and kept at a distance from his fellow Slytherins, upperclassmen not included.

            Now he sat in the library, in between classes, researching ways to get back at that stupid Gryffindor who had thrown a dung bomb into his bag. He propped his legs up on the seat across from him and relaxed for a promising read on the infamous Jelly-Legs jinx. He'd seen a fourth year cast it last week on some Hufflepuff and had decided that to have such power as to render an enemy practically legless was his goal for now. He was certain that with a little practice, however young and untrained he was, he could attain it.

            He felt a slight weight on his foot and looked up to see a black bag resting the polished toes and Veronica Doyle leaning forward against the chair-back. She gave him a quick smile and then put a finger to her lips.

            "Can I sit here?" she whispered, glancing over her shoulder suspiciously. He furrowed his brow and before he could nod his consent, she picked his feet off the chair along with the bag unceremoniously and set herself down on it instead. "What's that you're reading?" she asked, once again in hushed tones.

            "Oh, just a book," he answered a little coldly. Immediately, she put her finger to her lips again and glanced around in paranoia. 

            "Well, obviously it's a book. Are you doing homework or something?" she whispered. He turned the page in the text to show how uninterested he was in their conversation. He didn't particularly like Veronica Doyle. Although he'd never really spoken to her, she seemed loud, obnoxious, and in general, someone he didn't want to hang around. Besides, she had a creepy way of staring at him whenever he wasn't looking.

            "No, we don't have any homework," he answered, in a slightly louder tone than he would normally use, to annoy her.

            "Shh!" she hushed quickly, "I'm kind of running from someone. You wouldn't believe what happened!" she added excitedly. He stared at the page and tried to ignore her.

            "You know that Gryffindor that threw that dungbomb into your bag?" she continued casually, tucking a stray curled lock behind her ear while he felt himself burn with embarrassment. What, was she following him around? "After you left, I tried to put an engorgement charm on his nose – you know, try it out and all – and I kind of missed and hit his ear and he started screaming because supposedly the noise from Professor Dumbledore's class (we were right outside his room) was hurting him," she paused to breathe and Tom, despite his general annoyance towards her, looked up to see why she'd stopped. She pushed her thick hair out of her face and continued, "so Professor Dumbledore came out to see what happened and he told him that I attacked him and when Dumbledore went to fix the oaf's ear, I _ran_." She finished and smiled, watching him for a reaction.

            "Oh…" was all he could say. What does one say after hearing this kind of story? "So… now you know you can do an Engorgement Charm." he added, feeling very stupid as he said it. 

            She laughed, "Well yeah, I guess that's a plus. I'll just find that Gryffindor whenever I learn a new charm from now on, huh?" He laughed and placed the still-open book down on the table. She looked at it curiously, "So what's that you're reading?"

            "Oh, just a book," he repeated, "It's on spells and hexes… I'm trying to learn how to do the Jelly-Legs Jinx. Actually, I was going to get back at that Gryffindor myself..."

            "Oh? That sounds good. So you're just reading up on Jelly Legs? Why don't you look up other stuff too?" she suggested, pulling up her chair next to his and boldly flipping through the pages without his permission.

            "Like what?" he asked somewhat irritably.

            "I don't know… there are just so many in here, I'm sure we could find something less cliché…"

            "But there are so many…."

            "Well, let's just start looking through the table of contents," she cut in cheerily. Tom sighed and they spent a good half-hour just searching. Finally, Veronica stopped and pointed to something listed on page XIV of the table of contents.

            " "The Tickling Charm"…" Tom read, "That's good, it's humiliating _and _he can't take it off himself," he stated bitterly. 

Veronica laughed, "Ha! I bet we're the only first years who've ever tried this… or even looked through this book!"

            "Yeah, I know… we can set a record or something, for spell casting!" Tom joined ambitiously.

            "Let's get started then!"

-:- -:- -:-

            "Here you are," she said, placing a generous slice of chocolate cake in front of him. He glanced at the cake, threw her a disgusted look, and went back to his book. Biting back a smile at his childish reaction, she pulled up a chair next to his and glanced at the book. It was written in some ancient runic language and, not recognizing a character on the page, she nudged his arm playfully. She moved her chair up as close to his as possible, encouraged by his lack of reaction. Finally, when she started leaning on his shoulder heavily, he sucked his teeth and glared at her.

            "Do you want something?" he asked irritably.

            "Have some cake."

            "No. I told you, I don't want any!" he snapped, trying to push her off of him. 

            "Oh yes you do. And you're going to have some!" she retorted, starting to get annoyed and leaning on him harder.

            "No I'm not!" he cried, at last pushing her away. She jerked to the side and almost fell off her chair from the force of his thrust. Shooting up from her seat, she stabbed the fork into the cake, pulled off a moderate chunk and shoved it into his mouth. 

            "Oh yes you are Tom," she grinned mischievously. He chewed angrily at first and then broke into a smile. She laughed, relieved that she'd finally broken into him and sat down again. "So what's this now?" She waved a hand at the open book.

            "I'm trying to find a spell…" he started hesitantly.

            "For what?" she prompted, furrowing her brow.

            He shifted slightly in his chair and glanced at her expectant look, "Uh…"

            "Yes?"

            "Fine, I'll tell you. But promise—"

            "I know, to never tell anyone and blah blah blah," she interrupted impatiently, "Now get on with it, why are you so frustrated?"

            "I don't understand these," he pointed to the characters on the yellowing page, "they make no sense… I think I'm translating wrong…"

            "Um… why don't you try someone else? You know, go to one of those Professors at Stonehenge – if anyone could help you, they can—"

            "I can't! No, no, I can't let anyone else see this. It took months for me to even _find_ the book, it's that rare, and I'm not letting anyone get their hands on it!" he cried, edging the book slightly closer to him in a sudden movement. She blinked.

            "_Okay_… calm down… do you want me to get you some translation texts or something?"

            "I don't know…" he rubbed his face tiredly and she conjured up a cup and set the kettle to heat.

            "Tom, don't get so worked up over this… you're only nineteen, you know. And Merlin knows you've come _far_. What spell are you looking for anyway?" she asked, patting his arm soothingly.

            "A…a youth serum…" he said slowly.

            "Oh… and what are you going to do with a youth serum?" she asked warily.

            "Find it. Learn how to use it. And then manipulate it," he answered confidently, opening the text once more. 

            "Um… manipulate it how exactly?" she asked, setting down a cup of tea in front of him. She reached up for the tin of biscuits atop the stove and almost missed his whispered reply.

            "Immortality."

            The light blue tin crashed to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2 Actions of a Bewildered Kind

            She ran her forefinger over the dark, leather spine carefully until the book loosened it's cover and it flipped open. She whispered a cautious 'Lumos' and held the glowing wand tip close to the page as she frowned in concentration, memorizing the contents of the old, worn page. Muttering the ingredients under her breath, she quietly closed the volume and placed it back on the highest shelf, covering her face as the dust settled once more over the usually undisturbed area.

            Quickly she scuttled around the storeroom, opening and closing cabinets, urgently reading labels and throwing items into a plastic shopping bag. She dropped the bag in front of a large pewter cauldron (one that would make the least noise when the concoction boiled), tied an old, gray apron around her waist and lit a tame fire beneath the great pot. Pulling a measuring spoon out of a pocket in the apron, she opened jar after jar and poured spoonfuls of various powders and glutinous substances quietly into the cauldron. She bit her lip when the spoon clinked against the jar loudly and when the potion sizzled after a silver liquid was added and was relieved when all that was left for her to do was sit back and wait. 

            She waited silently, lighting a dim candle and bringing forth a chair. Staring into the simmering brown liquid, sniffing the light, tangy odor produced, watching the bubbles grumble and pop, she remembered what had happened earlier that day – after Tom had voiced his outrageous plan…

            _"Immortality!" she had repeated, not bothering to pick up the mess of broken biscuits scattered across the floor, "Surely you're joking!"_

_            "No… I mean it, I am going to achieve immortality," he replied calmly, looking up at her as though she was overreacting. He gestured to the seat next to his and she numbly walked over to it._

_            "But… but… but no one's ever done that!" she stuttered, sinking into the chair, staring at him in astonishment, "You can't be serious!"_

_            "But I am… and I know no one's done it before. That's precisely why I'm going to try. Think, Veronica, if I succeed… no, _when_ I succeed (because I'm sure I can once I get this darned text right)… when I succeed, my name will be down in all the books! Everyone in the future will read about Lord Voldemort and how he created the Immortality Serum… they'll even know about you, if you help me! And once the product is out on the market, just think! It'll sell for hundreds of galleons! Just think, we'll be rich and famous and everyone will know and respect us. Just think!" he repeated excitedly. Veronica stared at him, aghast. _

            "No… no, Tom… no one's ever done this before…" she repeated weakly.

_            "I know that, Veronica… but just think about it! Didn't you hear what I said?" he replied, losing a bit of his enthusiasm._

_            "You can't Tom… no…" she muttered, putting her head in her hands and leaning forward so her elbows rested on the table. _

_            "You think I can't do it?" he asked, his temper rising, "I am Lord Voldemort… and you think I can't do it?"_

_            "Merlin… Tom, nobody, not even Grindelwald or Vilius or Merlin or even _Slytherin_… you can't, it's not done!" she pleaded, rubbing her temples and not looking at him. It seemed most important to make him understand that this had never been done._

            "Of course it's done! Haven't you heard of the Sorcerer's Stone? Nicholas Flamel, he's probably older than 500 now and who's he? Just some old crackpot trying to turn tin into gold! I can do it, and I will!" he shouted, giving her an angry glare. She took her face out of her hands and gave him a startled look.

_            "You can't do it Tom! And I don't want you to spend your whole life trying to achieve something that no one's ever reached, I'm not going to watch you for the rest of your life killing yourself trying to find out how to live!" she cried with new determination. She pushed back her chair and stood up, suddenly disgusted with herself at even sitting next to this man. _

_            "What are you going to do about it?" he asked tauntingly, ironically calm at her outburst._

_            "I… I… I won't help you!" she yelled before stomping off into the storage room and slamming the door behind her._

            That was about ten hours ago. And now, at two-thirty in the morning, after spending almost half a day thinking, researching, and thinking some more in the blasted storage room, her head was somewhat cleared.

She knew that if he were to achieve immortality, he could very well do it without her help but at the time it was all she could have thought of to say, that sounded mildly threatening. In reality, she _did_ believe that he could do it. And that was what scared her…

-:- -:- -:-

            Tom sat in an overstuffed, dark green chair a little ways away from the crackling fire in the Slytherin Common Room. He glanced at the portrait hole when it opened and turned back to his transfiguration text when a burly sixth year entered. It was the middle of November and he'd discovered that magically, he was some kind of genius. He had so far been able to perform every spell practiced in class, on his first try and his professors adored him. 

            The portrait hole squeaked open and Tom looked up again, this time with a smile as a girl and a boy climbed through. They walked over to where he sat and settled into chairs facing him. Veronica's face was flushed and she pushed a damp curl out of her face before reclining in the chair and closing her eyes. The boy – Calvin Borg – was panting.

            "Where've you been?" Tom asked, frowning. Calvin put up a hand and Tom waited for him to catch his breath. The blond boy and Tom had become friends a few weeks into their partnership at Potions and he had introduced him to a few of the other first-years. 

            "Veronica…" he started, still breathing heavily, "Veronica was in the Great Hall… and a couple of Gryffindors came over and they… they tried to hex… her…" he said while gasping. Veronica finally opened her eyes and looked daggers at Calvin. 

            "And then…?" Tom prompted, looking between them curiously.

            "And I told them to leave her alone… but they're older than us—"

            "They're in fourth year," Veronica clarified, still glaring at Calvin. Tom nodded, it was probably the one who put the dung bombs in his bag.

            "Yeah so then one of them challenged me… you know, to a wizard's duel. And I told him we'd better take it outside and we did. 'Cept when me and Veronica got outside we ran because we couldn't possibly win…"

            "You should have stayed out of it. They wouldn't have hurt me, you know!" Veronica cried indignantly. She rose from her seat and stomped over to where Felicia Borg, Calvin's twin, and Rebecca Luis were chatting by the fire. Tom and Calvin watched as Veronica took a seat by them and in no time was immersed in their animated conversation.

            "What was that all about?" Tom asked Calvin, who was watching Veronica with a frown. He tore his eyes away from her and looked just as puzzled as Tom felt.

            "No idea… she was ahead of me when I got out of the hall and I met her on the stairs…" he said absent-mindedly.

-

            "Hey! Veronica!" Tom called to the figure ahead, "Veronica, wait up!" The figure stopped and turned, waiting with her arms crossed for him to come to her. It had only been an hour since she and Calvin had arrived at the common room, red-faced and panting, and he'd followed her back out, curious as to what she was doing.

            "Yeah?" she asked irritably, feeling a tinge of guilt at the bright smile on his face. She loosened her arms a bit.

            "Where are you going?" he asked tentatively, at the tone of her voice.

            "I have a detention," she answered with a sigh. He raised an eyebrow.

            "Detention… for what?"

            "When Calvin told those boys to meet him outside the Great Hall for a duel, I left the hall and I was running and knocked into Professor McCarthy. He was holding a crate of potions ingredients and they fell down the stairs and most of them broke… he got really mad and gave me a detention. I have to go put his shelves to order…" She shuddered at the thought of coding countless vials of gruesome ingredients, from most common to most rare and in alphabetical order.

            "Crikey… I'm sorry…" was all that Tom could think of to say. He wanted to know why she was so rude to Calvin back in the common room but struggled to find the words. He decided on, "Are you mad at me?"

            She frowned at the question, wondering if her previous tone had affected him _that_ much, "Not at all. Why would I be?"

            He ignored the question countered, "Are you mad at Calvin?"

            "I'm annoyed with him, yes."

            "Why?"

            "Why? Because he had no right to stick his nose in my business. He should've left me alone." she said resentfully.

            "Oh…" Tom thought this was quite a petty reason, "He was just trying to help, you know. He's sorry…"

            "Good. He should be sorry. And how did he think he was helping, getting himself into a duel with four fourth years? He would've gotten us into trouble. I _did _get into trouble."

            "He thought they were going to hurt you… he told me they were going to hex you. Maybe he wanted to distract them so you could run away or something." Tom suggested. She rolled her eyes.

            "Well that was all very noble of him and all but he's better off staying out of it. I can take care of myself!" she finished, becoming indignant. Tom wouldn't relent.

            "I would have done the same," he declared, raising his eyebrows.

            "That would be stupid of you, wouldn't it, now that you know I don't want you to? Look, Tom, I don't like it when people act like they have to take care of me, or stick up for me. In fact, I hate that they act like I'm a weak little girl. I'm much more than that, and I can take care of myself." With that, she turned on her heel and started back down the corridor. Tom watched her go until she turned the corner and was out of his sight.

            For some reason, that little speech repeated itself in his mind that evening, barring him from thinking of anything but Veronica Doyle.

-:- -:- -:-

            "What's that you're making?" a voice said from the doorway, bringing her out of her daydream with a gasp. It was Tom, and he'd somehow gotten the door to open without making the slightest noise. Actually, upon better inspection, he'd made the door disappear completely.

            "Tom," she said quickly, lighting another candle since there was no longer a need to conceal her presence. "You're up."

            "So are you," he observed quietly, "And you're angry with me."

            "No… I'm not really… how would you know anyway?" she challenged bitterly, knowing well that it wasn't much of a challenging question.

            "Well for one thing you haven't spoken to me since about four in the afternoon. And you've locked yourself in the storage room," he answered wearily, finally crossing the threshold to stand above the cauldron. He looked into it but she could see that he wasn't really looking at all.

            "And what would you care?" she ventured softly. He shot her a cool glance that encouraged her, "When was the last time you cared about anything but your books and your power and—"

            "You've been in here for ten hours. You can make every potion in existence and I know that you know more than a few that are fatal. I thought you'd hurt yourself." He spoke softly and watched her every movement, reaction.

            "Why would I do such a thing? I'm not weak Tom, you know that too. I was just thinking," she answered bitterly, determined not to show that she was indeed touched by his concern, "Like you said."

            "So what's this?" he asked, pointing to the now clear, blue, syrupy substance in the cauldron. She put out the fire and stirred it slowly, helping it to cool.

            "It's the strongest translating potion I could find."

-:- -:- -:-

A/N: Worry not (or in some cases, loose all hope) my readers, that little bit at the end of the flashback (when they're still first years) does not indicate that an 11 year old orphan and future evil overlord has fallen in love. I'm not _that_ mushy.

Keep up for more chapters!

And if you want to sample more of my writing, my fics can be found at fanfiction.net. "Turn Me Green, Kiss Me Pink" can be found at Schnoogle, and my new fic that I'm not sure is up yet because I just sent it in on Feb 13th, "A Chaotic Encounter" can be found at Riddikulus.

All are under the penname, Curry Spice.

Please review, they encourage me a lot.


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